SoulBound Ball
by Grasshopper-chan
Summary: SLASH! Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (T)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and adult (sexual) content. This story contains spoilers up to OotP but not HBP and can thus be considered at least partly AU (basically: pre-HBP). The idea for this fic came to me before the sixth book came out, and I don't want to have to factor in the new information—it's too much work for me; I'm too lazy. Also, this will contain **slash **(male/male relationships). If this offends you, please turn around right now and leave. Also, there will be some Dumbledore bashing. It's not that I don't like the guy (I don't like his twinkle-eyes, as you will soon discover XD), but he's going to be a manipulative old man in this fic, okay? For anyone who is sill here…(listens to crickets chirping)…on with the fic!

* * *

Harry woke up with a feeling of euphoria. It was the September the first—the first day of his final year at Hogwarts. Today he would say goodbye to the Dursleys forever and begin to forge for himself a life of his own on his own and without the coercion of meddling old men dictating his life's coarse. This year, Harry would take a stand for his personal rights and live as he deemed fit. Dumbledore would never again make decisions for Harry's personal life. Nope, there was absolutely no way Harry was going to let Dumbledore control his life again this year. No way in hell… 

"Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, everyone," Dumbledore said cheerfully, eyes twinkling madly. "This year we will be hosting a very special occasion: the Soul-Bound Ball." Several gasps were heard from the Ravenclaws and the purebloods, all of who were very familiar with the title. Harry and the others just stared blankly. Dumbledore proceeded to explain, "Do not feel bad if you do not understand. This is a very rare event—if my memory serves correct, it has been just over seventy years since the last Soul-Bound Ball—and has usually only been performed on a small, family-size scale.

"The process is quite simply, actually. The Mirror of Souls will be brought in by its rightful owner—an old friend of mine, might I add—and each student will look into the mirror. They will see their Soul Mate within the glass reflection. After they have seen their Life-mate, they have until the night of the ball to reveal it to each other (if they do not, then there will be severe consequences over which we have no control), and they will naturally attend together as a couple. By the first year after their Hogwarts education is completed, the pair must, err… _consecrate _the match. I will have no complaint—this is much more reasonable than the original contract, which was to be sealed immediately after the Ball. Fifth years and above will be participating. This month it will begin with the fifth years, and in two days the sixths years, and by the end of the week we will finish with our seventh years.

Do not fret, students, it is a very joyous time. The Mirror of Souls has never been mistaken. Accept these times with a light heart. You will be spared from great emotional turmoil if you listen to the Mirror's wisdom and will live a life of happily ever after if circumstances allow."

Harry stared at the headmaster in absolute horror. No way. No bloody way. He couldn't do this! Dumbledore had no right, the meddling old coot! And yet, there he was, finding new ways to control and ruin Harry's life. But that wasn't even the best part! No, the icing on the cake was that insufferable twinkle. As if destroying the last shred of hope for freedom and independence Harry possessed wasn't bad enough! No, Dumbledore had the nerve to stand there and _twinkle_ at him afterwards!

The week crawled by at an agonizingly slow pace. Harry watched as more and more upperclassmen went to Dumbledore's office nervous but still composed only to return either elated or in hysterical tears. Today, the sixth years were being paired off. Colin had been rather upset, mumbling to himself about his partner not looking enough like the wonderful, fabulous, heroic Harry Potter—_that_ had been disturbing, to say the least. Luna had stared dreamily into space as usual, a slight blush of delight touching her cheeks. Ginny, however, was the case that really struck a nerve. She entered the Common room sobbing loudly and would not be consoled by anyone. It took the house the better part of an hour to find out that she was the soul-mate of Draco Malfoy. Harry truly felt sorry for the girl, and his own stomach churned at the thought of Malfoy doing _anything_ with his surrogate sister. Harry was definitely not looking forward to his own trip to the Headmaster's office.

However, the time finally came for the seventh year Gryffindors to be matched. They were the last ones, and had watched with growing dread as the seventh year Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins all had their worlds crumble to pieces in the span of a day. Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione. They were nervous, too, but not nearly to the same extent as Harry. After all, everything always went amuck with his life. If something bad were going to happen, it would happen to him at the most inopportune moment, and then Dumbledore would just _twinkle_.

McGonagall escorted a weeping Parvati Patil down from the Headmaster's office with a weary sigh. "Mr. Weasley, you're next!" she snapped, her tone more irritable than usual. Ron winced and hurried over to her side, glancing back at his friends with the look of a man about to face his death.

"Poor Ron," Harry said.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He'll be fine. I don't see why everyone is making such a big deal out of this—well, Ginny has a reason but she's the exception. It is a good idea and will strengthen our magic by combining with our partner's."

Harry shrugged, a sour expression on his face. "This is just part of Dumbledore's plot to enslave me."

"Oh, please, no more of your conspiracy theories! They're rubbish and I will hear no more of them!"

Harry frowned. "They're not rubbish! They're true! Every year, a series of events unfolds that climaxes in my near-demise, and after I go through the crazy ordeal and wake up in the hospital wing, Dumbledore shows up, practically confesses he's been manipulating me and keeping secrets from me, and then he _twinkles_! _Twinkles! _I don't know who's got it in for me more—Voldemort or Dumbledore! Why don't you—" Harry stopped talking when Ron came out stunned speechless but seemingly pleased nonetheless.

"Well?" they asked. Ron colored slightly and mumbled incoherently under his breath. "Sorry, didn't catch that," Hermione said.

"Um…ah…uh, well…"

"Oh, just spit it out already!" Harry snapped.

"It's Hermione," Ron admitted. Hermione and Ron both went red at the confession and Harry smirked. He wasn't really surprised, considering the way those two always acted around each other. They were already like an old married couple as it was. This would give them a much-needed nudge in the right direction.

"Harry Potter," McGonagall said, her tone softening slightly for her favorite pupil. Harry didn't spare his friends a glance as he walked with false confidence towards the staircase leading to Dumbledore's office. McGonagall put a reassuring hand on his should as they ascended.

Dumbledore was beaming widely at Harry when the teen entered the room alone. He had requested McGonagall wait outside. One conniving old professor was bad enough; he didn't think he could handle two.

"Ah, welcome, Harry, welcome. Fine day, isn't it my boy? Fine day indeed…"

"Can we please get this over with, Sir?" Harry said impatiently. He was quickly directed over to the mirror by a much more somber Headmaster, whose eyes had thankfully dimmed considerably at Harry's coldness. Harry peered into the glass and watched as his reflection was replaced by the image of the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

It was male, and that was a surprise enough on its own. It appeared to be human upon first glance, but there were shimmering feathers mixed in with its hair. The young male, no older than Harry in appearance, had hair the color of fire, and it seemed to glow like flames. He had fiery golden eyes, perfect alabaster skin, and sharp human facial features. He was wearing strange baggy pants and slippers, garments that vaguely resembled an Arabian costume but made of much finer and more magical materials. He wore no top but an open vest, leaving a slender but toned torso uncovered for Harry to see. The creature had a mischievous gleam in its golden eyes that set Harry's insides ablaze with excitement and desire. Who and what was this embodiment of beauty before him? Harry absolutely needed to know!

Dumbledore, who was watching Harry carefully, was very curious as to who would match the boy's strange magical aura. He wished he could see whom the teen was staring at so intently, but alas he could not—if he tried he would only see the image of his own soul-mate. Harry finally turned to look at him and to Dumbledore's surprise there was a look of great satisfaction on the young man's face, along with a hint of confusion and curiosity. The boy was pleased. Very pleased. Who could have made Harry Potter so content with a situation he'd undoubtedly found cruelly unfair only moments before?

"Professor Dumbledore, Sir," Harry said. "I was unaware that wizards could have Creature soul-mates." Dumbledore frowned. They couldn't, not unless they wielded unimaginable power. Such a case was unheard of. Then again, Harry did possess an inordinate amount of raw magic and a knack for defying natural laws. "This divine creature cannot possibly be human, Sir. It's too indescribably beautiful. Powerful, too," Harry added.

"Then you have never seen this person—ah, _creature_, rather—before?" Harry shook his head. "Is it male or female?"

Harry blushed. "Male, Sir." He looked at the mirror and his gaze darkened. "Most definitely male."

Dumbledore coughed. "Are there any identifying characteristics? Perhaps fangs or Veela charm…"

Harry shook his head. "No, he's charming alright, but it's not Veelan charm…" He stared for a moment longer. "He has feathers and radiant features—like molten flames."

Dumbledore's eyes widened. "Feathers, you say?" He glanced over at Fawkes, who was sitting on his perch trilling as chipper as always. In fact, Fawkes had been more cheerful than usual as of late. Perhaps…

Harry followed the Headmaster's gaze and stiffened. "Sir, you cannot possibly think—"

"Perhaps it would be best to ask our dear friend before jumping to conclusions," Dumbledore suggested, and the two approached the Headmaster's desk cautiously. "If you are his soul-mate, then you must either have or develop the ability to communicate with the Phoenix species, Harry. Give it a try."

Harry nodded uneasily and turned to Fawkes, who was chirping and singing harmlessly. "Um… Fawkes, do you understand what I'm saying?" He looked at Fawkes, who was staring blankly at him, no longer singing but apparently not understanding. He glanced at Dumbledore and shook his head, shrugging in defeat. "Maybe I was mistaken. I'll look in the mirror again." Before he could take even one step toward the mirror, Fawkes began a loud, animated trill. The chirping sounds slowly turned into words. Harry froze and turned back, staring at the phoenix with a blank look that mirrored the one the bird had worn only seconds earlier. He glanced at Dumbledore curiously, but the Headmaster had seemed not to notice anything unusual.

"Did… did you just—"

"_Ah, so you can understand me after all. I had begun to wonder if it were merely a figment of my imagination, or perhaps sheer chance, that I had heard a phoenix trill overlapping your human words,"_ the bird said enthusiastically.

Harry blinked several times. "What—do you mean you can understand what I'm saying right now?" he asked, incredulous.

Fawkes leered at him, clearly amused. "_Yes, that's exactly what I am saying. It is untrained and muddled, but it is still phoenix-tongue. I am very impressed, Harry Potter."_

Harry shifted uneasily and wet his lips. "Is there a chance that you have a human form?" he inquired, getting straight to the point. The phoenix tilted its head to the side contemplatively.

"_Perhaps,"_ he said. "_I have never attempted to assume a humanoid form. It is possible—just as it is possible for a human to assume an Animagus form. Possible, but improbable without sufficient practice. Why?"_

"Perhaps that was the wrong question. Let me rephrase: Is it possible that you and I are soul-mates?"

Fawkes trilled delightedly. "_Yes. Quite possible, young Harry Potter."_

"Well, is it true or isn't it?" Harry growled, feeling frustrated by the creatures uncooperative attitude.

Fawkes let out another round of jovial trills, which Harry assumed could be equated to laughter. "_Yes, yes. It is quite true, Harry. But do not be alarmed. I will treat you well,"_ he assured the teen.

Harry gave the bird a hard stare. "I don't believe you."

"_Not yet, perhaps, but when I assume a human form, will you be able to deny it?"_ Harry recalled the enticing image from the mirror and turned deep red. He could not believe that the sinfully appealing young man from the mirror was the same as the irritating bird perched on the stand a meter in front of him. And he would eventually have to…_consecrate_…the pairing with Fawkes. His face turned even redder and he turned away in mortification. Why did strange things always happen to him? Why couldn't he just be an ordinary wizard?

"_Because you are anything but ordinary, Harry. You are extraordinary. You are magnificent. You are in the minority. Only the greatest of wizards can pair with a Magical Creature."_ Harry stared at Fawkes in shock. Could he hear Harry's thoughts? "_No, not thoughts. I suppose it is done subconsciously. You broadcast your thoughts in high-pitch trills. Ordinary humans cannot even hear them, but a phoenix such as myself can easily pick up on them. You must work on controlling yourself lest I should hear everything that enters your pretty little head."_

Harry turned, if possible, an even deeper shade of red that put the Weasley hair to shame. "Thank you for the advice," he said curtly, too embarrassed to say anything more sophisticated.

"Harry?" Dumbledore prodded gently. Harry nodded imperceptibly, refusing to meet the old man's eyes.

"Well, I've confirmed everything with my soul-mate. At least _that_ is out of the way," he mumbled. "May I go now, Sir? I have some things to sort out." Dumbledore nodded, his wizened features etched with concern for the boy. Harry walked slowly toward the exit, pausing only glance at the Mirror one final time before slipping out of sight.

Dumbledore looked sadly at his long-time companion. "Please be gentle with him, Fawkes. That boy has already suffered so much…" he trailed off sorrowfully, knowing that Fawkes couldn't understand his words, but praying that his tone conveyed his message clearly.

Minerva McGonagall had waited patiently at the top of the stairs for Harry and was quite surprised to see him leave the room with his shoulders slumped and a despondent look on his face. Surely it couldn't have gone that badly, she thought as she escorted back to his friends.

"Harry, mate, how'd it go?" Ron asked immediately.

Harry glared vehemently at his friend. "How do you _think_ it went, Ron? It went, that's for sure. I'm _Harry Potter_; things never go too well for me, now do they?"

Ron paled. "It's not… You-Know-Who, is it? Or worse—it isn't Snape, right?" Hermione whacked him over the head.

"You idiot! Of course it's not! Dumbledore would never allow something like that to happen."

"Well then who is it?" Ron said.

Harry blushed. "An angel."

His friends looked at him incredulously. "No, seriously mate, who is it?"

"A creature too beautiful to be human."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Harry, I'm glad you like the girl, but can you stop fawning over her beauty and tell us who she is?"

"It is a Creature, and yes, Hermione, I know that for certain. A little bird told me it was so." With that, he scuttled down the corridor before his friends could question him further.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (M)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and adult (sexual) content between two male characters. AU as of HBP.

* * *

Harry slept soundly that night, dreaming of warmth and comfort and of the trill of a phoenix. In the morning, he was sad to wake. Waking meant facing reality. However, when Harry finally made his way down to the Great Hall for breakfast with Ron and Hermione in tow, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. It was still the same Hogwarts. The students were the same, the staff was unchanged (minus the Defense position, which was once again filled by Remus Lupin), and the castle itself was the same as it always was. And he was still Harry Potter—recent unfortunate events confirmed that. 

Sitting down across from Seamus, Neville, Dean, and Parvati, the trio quickly began filling their plates.

"So, Harry, who did you get stuck with?" Seamus inquired.

Harry shrugged. "I'd rather not say quite yet. I'm still in denial."

Neville laughed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. When I got paired with Blaise Zabini from Slytherin I nearly had a heart attack." Harry choked on his pumpkin juice.

Seamus grinned. "I am paired with Dean." He smiled at the other boy, who returned the look happily. Harry shifted uneasily at the dreamy looks on their faces and cleared his throat. The two looked away from each other awkwardly, remembering that there was a bigger world out there than just the two of them.

"I'm stuck with Boot," Parvati added. "Lavender is with Michael Corner—the lucky witch, I'm so jealous!"

"This whole thing is quite ridiculous," said Ginny, joining the group. Her eyes were red and swollen and she didn't even bother hiding the tear stains on her cheeks.

Harry smiled sympathetically at Ginny. "I agree, Ginny. That Mirror doesn't know what its doing." Ginny smiled gratefully. At least someone saw the harm in it. "But you cannot refuse the Mirror's decision, Ginny. It would be dangerous—you heard what Dumbledore said. You might even die."

"Death would be better than becoming a Malfoy," she shot back.

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Becoming a Malfoy would be better than becoming sexually involved with—" Before he could finish the statement, the owls arrived with the mail. Hedwig delivered two letters to Harry, which he opened with great trepidation. The first was from Dumbledore, telling him to meet with Hagrid at seven this evening for a detention. The second was Remus, offering words of reassurance and sympathy for the mirror's poor choice. Harry glared at the parchment. Did the entire staff table know? What right did Dumbledore have to tell anyone?

"None whatsoever, that conniving old—" Harry fumed.

"Now, now, Harry, that's no way to refer to your Headmaster," a soft, refined voice said from behind him. Harry stiffened and turned to see a young man in plain black robes and glowing features standing before him.

"Fuck."

The young man smirked. "Such eloquence, Harry, we shall most definitely have to improve your working vocabulary," he teased. Harry colored slightly. By this time all of Gryffindor was staring at them.

Rising quickly, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and dragged his compliant companion out of the hall before they were pummeled with questions. Once he found an abandoned classroom, Harry stepped inside and slammed the door behind them, placing several locking and silencing charms on it. Fawkes looked on in evident amusement.

"I thought you said it would take a while for you to gain a human form," Harry said accusingly.

"Under normal circumstances, it would. However, because I have a human soul-mate, the transformation came quite naturally to me. Surprisingly, I am rather pleased with this new form. And I can see you are as well." Harry flushed. "I must confess that I am rather eager to couple with you, Harry. I have watched you grow since you were a young child, and now that you have become a man of valor I could not be more pleased with you."

As he spoke, Fawkes moved closer and placed one hand on either side of the boy's head so that Harry was pinned between him and a wall. He pressed his lips against Harry's, running his tongue over the bottom lip, coercing and demanding entrance. Harry moaned softly and Fawkes took the opportunity to explore the boy's mouth. When they pulled apart for oxygen, Fawkes buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck, taking in the teen's scent. Harry trembled, remember exactly who—or rather _what_—was touching him so intimately.

"Fawkes?" he said uncertainly, his voice hushed so as not to agitate the magical being.

"You are most delectable, Harry," the phoenix murmured, pressing in even closer to Harry. Harry gulped as an unfamiliar heat pooled into his lower abdomen. Surely Fawkes felt it, too. As if to confirm that thought, Fawkes let out an elated chirp, which, due to his human form, sounded more like a purr with a faint trill overlapping it. Fawkes gently nuzzled against him and Harry let himself enjoy the tender attention while it lasted.

However, as soon as Harry relaxed in his arms, Fawkes grew rigid and pulled away. He smiled at Harry kindly in reassurance. "Alas, for a moment I lost track of why I appeared before you this morning," he said, his voice elegant and silky, the perfect voice for a songbird. "There are many things you have yet to learn about my species, Harry. I would have gladly instructed you, but Dumbledore thought it best that you learn from someone with whom you are better acquainted."

"So 'detention' with Hagrid will really be a lesson?" Harry replied. Fawkes nodded, too focused on fiddling with Harry's hair to give a more elaborate answer. "Um… w-what are you doing?" Harry stuttered, turning red.

"Preening your hair," he replied affectionately without a hint of embarrassment. "It's a right mess, you know."

* * *

Harry arrived to Transfiguration twenty minutes late. McGonagall was none too pleased and took ten points from Gyffindor. Harry didn't bother arguing, and instead threw himself into the empty seat next to Hermione. 

Hermione stared at him for quite a while before whispering, "Harry, what did you do to your hair?" Harry frowned and his hands immediately rose to feel it, but Hermione quickly grasped his hands. "Don't, you'll mess it up! It's the first time your hair has ever looked even remotely tame." Harry didn't know whether to be offended or embarrassed and quickly settled for the latter. After all, his hair only looked nice because Fawkes had insisted on sorting out every single strand with delicate care. The thought sent shivers up his spine.

"So, how are you and Ron?" Harry inquired softly as McGonagall rattled on about Animagi transformations, which the qualified students would be working on in the first semester of the school year. Harry hadn't qualified. He apparently didn't have the magical capacity to handle such a transformation. It went against everything Fawkes had told him. Harry really wanted to become an Animagus like his father and Sirius had in their school days.

Hermione's cheeks turned pink. "Fine, thank you." End of discussion.

Harry sighed and sank lower into his seat, utterly bored. Why did he come to class? He should have stayed with Fawkes. At least Fawkes seemed to enjoy his company. Always had, in fact, even when Harry was a young boy. How long had Fawkes known they were soul-mates? There was so much he didn't understand! Perhaps tonight's lesson would clear some things up…

* * *

Harry forced a smile when Hagrid's door swung open. "Hi Hagrid. Fine evening for detention isn't it?" he joked. 

Hagrid beamed, seemingly relieved that Harry was taking the recent turn of events in stride. "Well, c'mon in 'arry, an' make yerself a' home. Get comfterball, 'cause we gotta long nigh' ahead o' us." Harry sat down in the small, cozy hut and waited patiently for Hagrid to begin a lecture of some sort. When the half giant sat down across from him jovially and smiled, Harry cleared his throat.

"Hagrid, perhaps we should begin," he suggested.

Hagrid jumped nervously. "Oh! Well, we better wait fer the bir', don't yeh think?"

"The bird?" Harry repeated in a pinched voice. "Fawkes is coming?"

"Well o' course he's comin'! Can't have a lesson about 'im unless he's 'ere to answer questions!"

Harry frowned. "But Hagrid, I thought _you_ were going to teach me about phoenixes. Fawkes told me so—he said…" Harry trailed off when he heard the soft, almost timid knock on the wooden door of Hagrid's small abode. "Hagrid, you didn't _invite_ him, did you?" he asked accusingly. Hagrid had the grace to look sheepish as he stood and let his guest in. Fawkes looked uneasily at Harry, as if knowing his presence was unwelcome.

"Good evening," he said cautiously, nodding politely to Harry.

Harry nodded back. "Good evening."

"Sorry I'm late—I didn't know I was expected to be here until Dumbledore came into his office and panicked when he saw me sprawled out on a chair sleeping," the phoenix said. "It's too bad. I was having a really nice dream, too." The tension slowly eased out of Harry's stiff body as Fawkes chatted amiably about some foolishly goofy tale about a vampire, some green beans, and a pack of rabid man-eating pink bunnies, all the while sitting down very close to the teen as he babbled.

"So, what's the plan? Is this supposed to be a long, boring dissertation or a question and answer period?" Fawkes whispered to Harry as Hagrid shuffled about to make some tea for them.

Harry shrugged. "I dunno. If I am required to ask questions, I wouldn't know where to start," he confessed, relaxing even more. He frowned in confusion. "Why do I feel so at ease around you?"

Fawkes grinned. "Oh, that's easy! It's because we're soul-mates. If you didn't feel at ease around me, how could you spend the rest of your life with me?" Harry blushed and shrugged, feeling stupid. "Don't feel bad—I would have said something stupider. I'd probably have asked what your favorite color was or something."

Harry gave him a curious look. "So, what is it?" Fawkes gave him a blank look. "Your favorite color, that is."

"Bright orange," Fawkes laughed, looking a little embarrassed.

"Oh," Harry said dumbly. Hagrid handed him a huge cup of strange tasting tea that he sipped warily.

Fawkes shook his head in polite refusal when offered a cup. "No thank you, Mr. Hagrid, sir. I'm technically not supposed to consume human food."

"Well, then, I, uh, suppose yeh migh' be wantin' to get down ta business, eh?" Hagrid said, sitting with a loud thump on the couch across from his two guests. Fawkes and Harry looked at each other and then at Hagrid, nodding in unison. So, Hagrid launched into an inhumanly boring and detailed account of phoenix history that put Fawkes right to sleep, leaning his head on Harry's shoulder, and filled Harry's eyes with tears of ennui. It was Binns' class all over again—one history class a day was enough, thank you very much!

It was well passed midnight when the half giant finally finished his tale. Harry subtly nudged Fawkes awake, thankfully unnoticed by Hagrid, and they said their goodnights before scurrying out of the hut as fast as possible without looking rude.

Once out of Hagrid's sight, Fawkes let out a loud, exasperated sigh. "Gods, that man can prattle forever!" he complained.

"He was worse than Binns!" Harry exclaimed. "He kept us there for the better part of a night and I don't remember a single thing he said. I'm exhausted!" Nevertheless, he laughed and spread his arms out wide, enjoying the cool crispness of the night air. Fawkes walked steadily beside him, watching on in fascination. "I wish I had my broom. This is perfect flying weather!"

"Yes, it is," Fawkes agreed. He paused and glanced back at Harry, who had stopped walking to stare up at the starry sky longingly. With a sigh, the phoenix closed his eyes and concentrated his energy. Iridescent wings sprouted from his back. He held out a hand to Harry, who was staring in wonder. "Shall we?" Harry smiled and placed his hand in Fawkes'.

Then, Fawkes took to the air with Harry in tow. It was the most exhilarating experience of Harry's life. It was so much better than flying on his Firebolt. This was _really_ flying! Flying with _wings_, not a wooden stick! True freedom!

When his feet finally touched the ground, Harry's face was flushed and his features were winded yet wide-awake at the same time. His hair was a mess once more, but his eyes were filled with passion and life.

Fawkes' wings had disappeared again and he had taken to carefully observing the teen. "You enjoyed this?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.

"Yes, it was amazing," Harry said breathlessly. "I've never felt so… _alive _before." He paused and glanced at Fawkes. "Thank you for tonight, Fawkes," he murmured, smiling shyly at the phoenix.

"You are most welcome, Harry," Fawkes replied, returning the smile with his own reassuringly. There was an awkward moment of silence. Harry bit his lip and swallowed hard. Fawkes coughed uneasily. "You should go to sleep. You have classes tomorrow."

"Yes," Harry replied softly. He then hesitantly moved to stand face-to-face with the phoenix and cautiously pressed his lips to Fawkes' in a quick, chaste kiss. Fawkes, who had gone rigid in surprise upon contact, watched in stunned silence as Harry's figure disappeared into the castle.

When Harry was out of sight, Fawkes looked down at the place Harry had recently stood, his golden eyes wide. He tentatively touched his lips with the tips of his fingers. His usually pale cheeks were heated and a light pink color. His heart fluttered. What was this feeling?


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (G)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and adult (sexual) content between two male characters. AU as of HBP.

* * *

Two weeks later, Harry was in Transfiguration trying to discover his Animagus form. The entire class was required to participate, even if some of the students—Harry included—were not expected to be able to transform into their inner creatures. Harry truly did not understand it. He knew he had the innate power to own an Animagus form. And he sensed deep down that he did have one, regardless of what McGonagall and her tests seemed to say. He knew himself better than she or her spells did. He had an Animagus form; he just couldn't unlock it yet. 

Hermione had been the first one to perform the testing spell correctly—she was a crane, much to her dismay and Ron's amusement. Ron, ironically, ended up being a red weasel, a form he was undoubtedly none too pleased with.

By the end of class, everyone but Harry had managed to find their hypothetical Animagus form. When there were five minutes left, McGonagall sighed disappointedly at Harry and had everyone sit and copy the homework from the board. Harry was utterly mortified that he was the only person incapable of completing the assignment, and Ron and Hermione's pitying glances didn't help one bit.

Just as he was finishing up, Harry felt something small crawl into his lap. He looked down stiffly and saw a toddler sitting comfortably on his legs, clinging to him with a moody pout on its face. "What the—" He stopped mid-sentence when the little child looked up at him with familiar golden eyes. Lowering his voice to a whisper, Harry trilled in phoenix tongue, "Fawkes, is that you?"

The child giggled joyfully and hugged him. "Hawy!"

Harry scowled. "Dumbledore has a lot of explaining to do…"

"Mr. Potter, what on earth is that!" McGonagall demanded.

Harry smiled sardonically. "This is my soul-mate, Professor," he said with false cheer. He pried Fawkes off him and helped him wave at the old professor. "Say hello to Professor McGonagall, Fawkes, don't be rude."

"Hewo 'fessor Gongal!" the little boy chirped, beaming innocently. Harry grinned widely at his Head of House, a scathing and bitter glint in his emerald eyes that was poorly masked.

Hermione gasped in shock. "Harry, did you just say Fawkes?" she exclaimed. "Fawkes, as in Dumbledore's phoenix!"

Harry nodded, although his gaze was now fixed intently on the humming child in his lap. "Hagrid warned me this could happen in that wretched speech of his. I guess this means you had a burning day recently, huh?" he sighed tiredly. "I hope Dumbledore doesn't expect me to take care of you…"

Fawkes just smiled sweetly, unaware that he was causing Harry a lot of turmoil. "For Hawy," he said, holding up a small bauble. "Fawkes make." Harry accepted it curiously and was surprised to find a beautiful ring in his hand.

"This is brilliant, Fawkes, did you really make this?" he inquired, holding it up for closer inspection.

The little phoenix boy smiled proudly. "Fawkes make yesterday. Peasant for Hawy."

"Thank you, Fawkes," he said. "It is a lovely _present_," he corrected gently, mentally patting himself on the back for taking this most recent development so well. After all, he had yet to throw a temper tantrum or break down into hysterical sobs. That had to be worth something, right?

Well, apparently no one else thought so. He was quickly dragged to the Headmaster's office and surrounded by a large group of disproving Order members, all of whom were arguing with each other about what Harry's future should hold. It was great to know he had a say in it. It really was.

"Why they fighting?" Fawkes asked, still being cradled gingerly in Harry's lap.

Harry sighed. "I don't know, Fawkes."

"Was Fawkes bad?" the little boy whimpered.

Harry's face softened into a warm smile. "No, you have been very good, Fawkes." Fawkes grinned at him and then looked back at the adults. He squirmed, trying to get more comfortable. "Sit still, Fawkes, or I'll put you down." This had the immediate desired affect. Fawkes became as still as a statue, cuddled in Harry's arms, and soon enough drifted off to sleep.

Harry smiled at the child before turning his attention to the howling pack of adults in the room. "Please bicker more quietly. The baby is sleeping," he said softly, his tone promising pain to anyone who dared defy him. "Now, may I ask a question?"

"Yes, of course Harry," Dumbledore said.

"Fawkes is like this because he just had a burning day, correct? Then how old does he get before he burns?"

"Usually, he only burns every several years. However, since meeting you, he has begun burning monthly. He is born as a babe and grows into his prime—I don't know how old he appears in human form yet—only to repeat the cycle again each month," the Headmaster explained.

"I have to put up with a baby every month?" Harry asked incredulously.

Remus, who had been arguing most fervently with Snape until Harry's interruption, smiled sadly at the boy. "Yes, that is exactly right, Harry," he answered. "But you should consider it a blessing. You may never have children of your own, and this will allow you a taste of the upside of rearing little ones without the long-term hassles of parenthood."

"So basically I raise him so he can screw me senseless," Harry said flatly, earning many chastising looks and several rebukes from his elders. "What? I'm just saying straight out what you lot refuse to acknowledge." Suddenly, Harry paused as a thought struck him. He swallowed and said inaudibly, so that none of the Order members could hear, "Does he remember me?"

As if sensing his distress, the child stirred in his lap and he looked down into wide amber eyes. "Fawkes remembers Hawy," the child murmured, as if hurt by the fact that Harry thought he'd forgotten him.

"Of course he does," Remus added, catching onto Harry's concern quickly. "Right now, Fawkes remembers every moment he's every spent with you. However, he has a different capacity for depth of thought and feeling at the moment; he has a child's heart and a child's mind, but he also has memories of an age-old Bird of Paradise."

"Bird of Paradise?" Harry repeated.

"Yes, in the Magical World, the phoenix is a type of Bird of Paradise. True to Muggle understanding, such birds are disposed to spend their whole lives soaring through the air, not even setting foot on land to eat or procreate. However, that is the extent of Muggle insight concerning these Creatures.

"Birds of Paradise are magical birds, and they possess great aptitude in the art of magic. Moreover, they are pure in essence and in nature. They let their instincts guide their actions, which is good because they are creatures of immense light and power. In a sense, they are superior to human wizards. A single Bird of Paradise can contain within it greater amounts of raw magic than the whole Order combined. That is why we named our group the Order of the Phoenix—because we strive to use Fawkes' power to increase our own in the battle against evil."

Harry's expression darkened and his arms tightened protectively around Fawkes. "What right do you have to cage Fawkes and _use_ him for anything, noble or ignoble?"

"Hawy," the child cooed, sensing Harry's barely restrained fury.

"He's not just some animal you can lock up and poke at with a stick, especially not with the magical ones we all call wands! He's got feelings!"

Dumbledore replied, "And we have made sure that his feelings are considered. He is repaying a life-debt to me by lending his powers, of his own volition might I add. And he is treated well, Harry, as you know."

"Treated like a pet, you mean," the wizard spat. "He is, as you've said, equal if not superior to you regardless of whatever debt he owed you years and years ago. How can you treat him like a tool?"

"Harry, my boy—"

"Just like me," Harry muttered, standing with Fawkes securely in his arms. "You treat him just like you treat me: a means to an end. I suppose you think that your _righteous_ goals justify your handling of your tools, your _pawns_? We're not objects, Dumbledore. We deserve better than that!" Harry sent the other adults a chilling glare and stormed out of the room carrying his soul-mate with him.

Fawkes clung to Harry's robes, too frightened by the young man's outburst toward the Headmaster to voice his physical discomfort as he was carried unevenly down the hallway toward Gryffindor Tower. Once they reached Harry's room, Fawkes was finally released onto his soul-mate's bed. Harry flung himself onto the bed and buried his face into his pillows. Fawkes watched in concern though innocent eyes of molten flames.

"Hawy?"

"Not now, Fawkes," came the muffled response. Fawkes pouted and climbed up so that he was sitting next to Harry's head. He reclined soundlessly and stared at the wizard. His eyelids grew heavy and he couldn't keep them open even when he felt the bed shift under Harry's weight.

"Sleep well, Fawkes," he heard faintly, and a warm smile gracing his lips as he dozed off into blissful oblivion curled against his mate.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (PG)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and adult (sexual) content between two male characters. AU as of HBP.

* * *

"Hey, Harry, wait up!" Harry slowed his pace slightly but did not stop or turn away from his conversation with Ginny. "How was school? Did you have fun? Did Mr. Snape give you a hard time again? Hey, why are you ignoring me?" 

Harry sighed and stopped. He turned irritated green eyes toward the source of the loud jabbering. "Fawkes, you are being rude. I was in the middle of a conversation with Ginny. You should not interrupt," he chided.

The twelve-year-old pouted cutely. "Sorry. I'll wait."

Harry nodded in approval and Ginny smiled, completely taken with the phoenix's innocent pretense. "Good boy," he said, returning to his conversation and resuming his comfortably paced journey. Ginny glanced back and offered Fawkes a smile as he followed the two teens toward the Great Hall for dinner. They were discussing the Soul-Bound Ball, which was fast approaching.

Fawkes had experienced three burning days since Harry was discovered to be his soul-mate, and the phoenix had spent every moment possible in the wizard's presence. It had been discovered that he aged one year in appearance for every day of the month. He never aged passed thirty-one. He used to, before he met Harry four years ago. He'd lived a century at a time before a true burning day (in which he would begin his life anew as an infant; every few years he would burn and reappear the same age as before, but those were not _true_ burning days), and yet now he had to monthly go through the excruciating experience—and in the prime of his life, too!

He didn't know the reason behind his body's sudden alterations. However, he did suspect that it had a great deal to do with Harry's age. Perhaps when Harry reached the age of thirty-two, Fawkes would also move passed the confines this monthly cycle. He certainly hoped that such was the case, and that he would not be forever cursed to suffer a monthly burning day.

"…and since Fawkes will be twenty-two, almost twenty-three, on the night of the Ball, I thought it would be a good time to get it over with," Harry said, a faint trace of bitterness lacing his voice. Fawkes' shoulders slumped at the tone. What had he done to upset Harry this time?

Ginny glanced back at Fawkes and winked cheerfully. He relaxed and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He'd done nothing wrong. If he had, Ginny wouldn't have smiled so pleasantly. Ms. Weasley was very protective of Harry and was especially intolerant of Fawkes' mistakes because of the circumstances by which he entered their lives; she had a prejudice against him as Harry's soul-mate, so it had taken almost a month for her to accept his presence.

Of course, if Ginny Weasley had the tiniest inkling as to what Fawkes' instincts were screaming at him, she would probably resort to _Unforgivable_ behavior. After all, the instincts of a phoenix were base and every bit reprehensible—quite often they told him to throw Harry on the floor and rut with him like a wild animal! But right now, those stirrings were relatively weak because of his "age," seeing as twelve-year-olds weren't supposed to constantly focus on such activities. No, as a child he had the desire to simply be near the dark-haired wizard, and thoughts of copulation came later, during adolescence and adulthood when he was capable of deeper-level thinking.

"Well, you two have fun," Ginny giggled. Fawkes looked at Ginny, and then at Harry, who was thoroughly flustered by the topic of their conversation. Fawkes tried to tune into Harry's thoughts, but to his disappointment the boy had done a remarkable job of controlling his unintentional trills. He wouldn't be getting answers from Harry any time soon, judging by the mortified expression on his soul-mate's face.

So, the only option left was to ask Ginny. "Have fun with what?" he said lightly.

Ginny laughed and Harry's face grew cool and collected almost instantly. "Never you mind," he said with finality.

"But you said my name. I have a right to know what's going on if it involves me!" Fawkes said, taking a tone of irate desperation that Harry often adopted when addressing the subject of personal rights, which the teen was very adamant about. Harry glared and refused to speak. Fawkes clung to Harry's arm and gave him the most pathetic kicked puppy look he could manage. "Harry," he whimpered pleadingly.

"Fawkes, act your age," was the only reply he received from the wizard as they entered the Great Hall and took a seat at the end of Gryffindor table, away from the crowd.

Ginny laughed sweetly and said, "He _is_ acting his age. He's twelve, remember? Still a child." Harry brooded silently, looking pointedly away from his companions. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Fawkes. "He was considering the night of the ball to complete his bond with you."

Fawkes flushed delightedly and released a jovial trill before he could stop himself. People stared at the trio strangely before returning to their own conversations. "Wonderful!" he chirped, smiling at Harry. "I'll be of reasonable age, too," he noted, pleased. Harry was still looking away uncomfortably. "Harry," the phoenix said, "I promise to make it an enjoyable experience… if you let me, that is."

Harry glanced at him guardedly. For a moment, the child sounded just like he did when they spoke in Dumbledore's office at the start of the whole soul-mate fiasco. Teasing, refined, seductive. Harry shuddered involuntarily at the memory of the vision he'd seen in the Mirror of Souls. He'd yet to see that Fawkes, the charming young man in foreign attire and inhuman beauty. He'd witnessed the potential, the pieces, but never the complete image of perfection he'd glimpsed in the Mirror. Fawkes always seemed to hide his phoenix characteristics and appear as human as possible, as if he were trying _not_ to seduce Harry. And to be honest, if Harry came face-to-face with that delicious creature, he was fairly certain that his virginity would be gone before the hour was up.

"We'll see," he mumbled inaudibly. A glance at Fawkes told him that the phoenix had heard him anyways, if the excited gleam in his fiery eyes was anything to go by.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (T)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and adult (sexual) content between two male characters. AU as of HBP.

* * *

Fawkes, now fifteen, accompanied Harry to Care of Magical Creatures as usual. He'd taken to following Harry everywhere, as if the teen were going to give him the slip before the Soul-Bound Ball came around (or rather, before the events _following_ the ball came around). The class was quite small, as many had seen fit to drop the class in favor of something less hazardous to their health. Perhaps they were the smart ones… 

"Hagrid, what are those things?" Harry asked incredulously, pointing to the gigantic slimy beasts in a nearby pen.

Hagrid frowned disappointedly. "Didn' yeh read ahead, 'arry? Those there are—"

"_Genbu_, Asian beasts of legend, said to be on par with the phoenix—which is a complete lie; Genbu are weak and primitive," Fawkes supplied. "A Serpent of Old, on the other hand, would be a more noteworthy adversary. I rather enjoyed my skirmish with the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets."

"Genbu?" Harry repeated.

"Half turtle, half snake," Fawkes explained. "They were so strange in appearance that humans, not knowing quite what to make of them, associated them with the other Creatures of Old. It joined the Fire Bird, the Water Dragon, and the White Tiger in Asian legend."

"Well, at least someone knows their stuff," Hagrid said, laughing gruffly. Fawkes smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes. How was he supposed to know about Asian muggle legends? He was in Wizarding Europe!

"Well, what are we going to do with them?" he inquired, ignoring the energetic phoenix beside him.

"Raise 'em, 'o course!" Hagrid said, seemingly offended that they might actually do anything less.

Fawkes shook his head vehemently. "Nuh-uh, no way. The only things I do with Genbu are cook 'em and eat 'em."

Harry smiled sweetly. "Then it looks like you're outta luck, doesn't it? You can always leave…"

Fawkes glared and huffed at the wizard. "I refuse to leave you alone with such lowly creatures. They might try something underhanded and injure you, and we simply cannot have you injured for the Ball, Harry. No, I will stay to make sure no harm befalls you."

"Oh joy," Harry muttered and went to retrieve his Genbu. The creature was heavy and moved awkwardly. The turtle head tried to snap his hand off and the snake head hissed at him threateningly. "_Really, now, there's no reason to be so rude. It is my duty to observe you for the next few months, and I think it would be much smoother if we got off to a better start,"_ he hissed. "_My name is Harry. Nice to meet you, Genbu…"_

"_Li Ping,"_ the snake hissed. "_I am Li, and this ridiculous appendage attached to me is Ping. Together we are called Li Ping."_

"You're talking to it? Don't waste your breath, Harry," Fawkes said snidely. Harry shot him a halfhearted glare.

"_What does that birdbrain want, Harry?"_ the snake hissed venomously. "_He should be more respectful to his superiors."_

"_As should you. If you insult my soul-mate, then I cannot ensure you are well fed,"_ Harry threatened. The creature did not say another word for the rest of the class.

Fawkes followed Harry to lunch that afternoon as stubbornly as ever. He sat himself next to the wizard and glared at anyone who paid his mate too much attention. Harry, needless to say, was very annoyed by Fawkes' intrusion on his personal space, but he kept quiet because it meant that instead of having a group pester he only had to put up with one overbearing phoenix who insisted on petting and preening him.

Ginny, as usual, found it hilarious. She offered no sympathy, instead replying, "But he's just being friendly."

"Friendly. Heh. Of course. Heh. Heh." Harry laughed weakly, nevertheless leaning more into Fawkes' touch.

"At least he doesn't sneer at the sight of you like Malfoy does," she said. "He hasn't even spoken to me about the Ball yet, and it's required that we attend together."

"Maybe he's still in denial," Harry offered. "_You_ were until you found out how much worse my case was."

"But it's really not so bad, Harry," she objected firmly. "He likes you, you like him. You look good together. He makes you happy, I can see it every time he's around. Your whole demeanor brightens. And most importantly, as far as I can tell, he treats you well. He treats you like you deserve to be treated. That's what matters most." She smiled at Harry and then at Fawkes, who had spaced out completely, staring at nothing with hazy golden eyes. She cleared her throat and Fawkes' eyes quickly refocused and locked onto Ginny after a quick examination of Harry's form for signs of disturbance.

"So, have you two discussed what you're going to wear to the Ball?" she inquired flippantly.

Fawkes and Harry stared at her blankly. "No. Why would we?" the wizard asked, his confusion evident in his tone.

"You have to coordinate your outfits!" she exclaimed.

"Coordinate?" Fawkes repeated blankly.

Harry frowned. "No we don't. Dumbledore didn't say anything about—"

"Not _Dumbledore_," Ginny corrected. "Me. _I _say you absolutely must match! It would be a sight to behold if you two arrived in matching exotic costumes!" She grew starry-eyed at the prospect. "Please let me design your outfits! It would be so much fun, and it will blow everyone away, I promise!"

Fawkes and Harry exchanged nervous looks. "S-Sure, Ginny," Harry said hesitantly. Ginny let out a whoop of delight. "But don't get too carried away with it!" he added hastily, seeing the devious grin on her face.

"Don't you worry. Just leave this to me. Ginny Weasley has it all under her control," she said.

Fawkes gulped. "I think that's what he's afraid of," he mumbled, earning a sharp glare from the witch. Then, as if a switch was flipped in her mind, Ginny scurried off to work on her new project, once again giddy and smiling as ever.

"Oh, be afraid, Fawkes," Harry said solemnly. "Be very afraid. She's up to something, and I don't think it's good for us…"

"Oh, come on, it's just one little girl. How bad could it be?" Fawkes said, forcing a chuckle. Harry didn't answer, but instead laughed nervously. Just one little girl indeed…


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (M)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and adult (sexual) content between two male characters. AU as of HBP.

* * *

Day twenty-two had finally arrived, and Harry had not seen height nor hair of Ginny Weasley since she insisted on making his and Fawkes' costumes. Even though classes were out for the week in honor of the Soul-Bound Ball, she had seldom left her room. It made Harry uneasy, knowing she was working away at something with great personal interest. 

"Harry?" a deep voice said from behind. Harry turned his head to the side and peered up at the figure towering over him. "I just spoke with Ginny."

"Oh?" Harry prompted, returning his gaze to the sparkling lake and adjusted himself against the rough surface of the tree on which he was leaning.

Fawkes sat down next to him and continued, "She's finished with our costumes and she'd like us to try them on for last minute adjustments."

"When?"

"Today, preferably. The Ball is tonight, after all."

"Very well," Harry sighed, gathering his belongings and standing slowly. "We might as well get it over with now."

"They're not bad, Harry," Fawkes said as they made their way back to the castle.

"You've seen them?" Fawkes nodded. "What are they like?"

"Wait and see for yourself. You'll like them, I think," the phoenix replied vaguely.

When they entered the common room, the duo was instantly tackled by a very excited redhead. "It's done! It's done! Try it on! C'mon, c'mon! Follow me!" And with that, Ginny dragged them up to Harry's room and handed them each a bundle. "Put them on and let me see!" Fawkes began stripping where he was, much to Ginny's amusement and Harry's mortification.

"Don't you have any modesty?" Harry snapped, blushing deeply.

Fawkes shrugged. "No."

Harry scowled and then scurried out of the room. Fawkes and Ginny shared a laugh at the dark-haired wizard's expense as Fawkes finished changing. His outfit was made of fine material—how Ginny managed to acquire it was a mystery considering her limited funding. It was silky and shimmered with supernatural radiance, just like Fawkes' own blazing features.

It was Arabian in style, the sleeveless top colored red with orange trim and a yellow sash, and the pants a translucent, almost glowing white. The top was loosely connected in front only by a small oriental chord and left the center of his chest bare. The slippers were gold with rubies engraved in the sides and moonstones on the top.

Ginny handed him several ornate golden rings and a pendant of a Bird of Paradise. The bird was also gold, although it glowed red as if it had been heated in a fire, and its eyes were made of a precious gemstone Fawkes had never seen in his long life. He looked in the mirror at himself and adjusted his appearance slightly.

"Something's missing," he observed.

Ginny nodded in agreement. "But it's something only you can provide."

Fawkes stared hard at his reflection for a minute before transforming some of his hair into feathers. He tilted his head to the side and critically examined his new look. Much better. More… alluring. At least he hoped it was. It would all be for naught if Harry didn't like it.

Harry reappeared moments later, dressed in a beautiful Arabian outfit of his own. The colors and shoes were the same, but the style of the outfit was different. It covered more skin but hugged his form in a manner that was just as enticing and revealing as Fawkes' looser, more open attire. He wore a smaller necklace—a fire orb, if Fawkes recalled correctly—and had put on eyes makeup and removed his glasses, giving him a come-hither glint in his emerald orbs. Emerald. One would expect the green to clash with the fiery colors of his outfit, but instead the contrast only made him more appealing.

"Gorgeous," Fawkes breathed.

Harry blushed faintly but couldn't tear his gaze away. He was left speechless by the exalted phoenix before him. This was the one he'd seen in the Mirror of Souls, albeit several years older in appearance, but that only served to remove any possible hint of adolescent awkwardness or inelegance. No, this wasn't some clumsy teenager. This was a man. A very graceful, sensuous, captivating man. No, _phoenix_; Fawkes was a _phoenix_, a being superior to the human race. And for some reason that made Harry all the more excited.

"Well, are they acceptable?" Ginny said, a teasing glint in her bright eyes. She received two pointed looks. "I'll take that as a yes," she giggled. "Well, gotta go dig out my own dress robes."

"Not coordinating with Malfoy?" Harry joked.

Ginny let out a derisive, unladylike snort. "Yeah, right! Coordinate with Malfoy! Hah!"

"I'll take that as a no."

"Don't mock me, Potter!"

"Yes'm. This unworthy one is bein' very sorry, Miss Ginny, ma'am."

"Harry!"

"_Ginny!_"

"Out, get out you heathen!" she threw a soft parcel at the young man.

"As you wish, fair maiden, and many thanks for the costumes, they're perfect," Harry called as he dashed from the room before Ginny could find an object that wasn't so pleasantly soft as the first. Fawkes followed at a more relaxed pace. That was rather easy for him since he was not on the receiving end of Ginny Weasley's notoriously lethal wrath.

* * *

Fawkes and Harry were among the first to arrive in the Great Hall for the Soul-Bound Ball that evening. The entire staff table was filled, and there were several Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Slytherins present, but not many students were there yet. Even so, they were immediately the center of attention. Ignoring the heated and curious stares, Fawkes led Harry to Gryffindor table and sat beside him. 

"How long do we have to stay hear?" Hary asked quietly, very well aware of the looks being sent their way.

"I don't know. Would you like me to go ask Dumbledore?" Fawkes replied.

Harry shook his head vehemently and clutched desperately at Fawkes. "Don't leave me."

Fawkes stared at him with great intensity. "I won't leave you, Harry." He began to trill soothingly, rubbing Harry's back, taking care not to scratch him with his talons. Harry leaned into him and cuddled into his neck. Fawkes wrapped his arms securely around the boy's lithe waist. "Are you… _eager_ to leave?" Fawkes asked softly, a dark look passing through his eyes as the words escaped his lips.

Harry turned red and nodded. "Yes."

"Can you wait an hour?" Harry groaned at the prospect. "At least let's wait until everyone has arrived and the ball's activities have commenced."

"Hey, look! Isn't that Harry?" Fawkes and Harry both turned to glance at Hermione, who was leading an embarrassed Ron into the room. Hermione was as beautiful as when she attended the Yule Ball, or perhaps more so because she had filled out more. Ron was wearing new dress robes—compliments of the twins, no doubt—and scuttling awkwardly after his date. "Harry, you look amazing! Where'd you get your outfit? Oh, and it matches Fawkes', how delightful!" Fawkes and Harry both wore fake smiles plastered to their faces and nodded in unison.

"Ginny made them herself," Harry said. Hermione stared in shock and Ron's jaw dropped.

"She _made_ them?" the witch repeated numbly. Harry nodded slowly. "Wow…"

"Yeah, that's what we said when we finally got to wear them," Fawkes said amiably.

"My _sister_ made those?" Ron squeaked. Harry and Fawkes nodded. "_My_ sister made those?" They nodded again. "My sister _made_ those?" Once more, they nodded, this time with more amusement. "My sister made… made _those_? My baby sister? Those-those things? They're barely clothes at all! What's she thinking?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "She's hardly a 'baby' anymore, Ron. In case you haven't noticed, Ginny has become a beautiful young woman with a mind of her own—one I'd not dare explore even if I were given the chance. The mind of a woman, after all, is a mysterious place that should remain a mystery to man."

"Speaking of Ginny Weasley, there's her soul-mate," Fawkes said, nodding toward the entrance. Everyone turned and glared at Malfoy. Harry's heart froze in his chest. Ginny was supposed to be with him. Why was he refusing his responsibility as her escort? If Ginny and Draco rejected the bond, there would be 'serious repercussions' according to Dumbledore. Did they not think to heed his warning? Those fools. Certainly, they would not come out of this unharmed. Dumbledore only gave warnings when the situation was dire, and Harry knew first-hand the gravity of the consequences of ignoring those warnings.

Standing abruptly, Harry made his way over toward Slytherin table where Malfoy was now seated with several of his friends. "Malfoy," he snapped. "What the _bloody hell_ do you think you're doing!"

Malfoy turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "What's it look like, Potter? I'm enjoying my evening—or at least I was until you showed your ugly mug."

Harry shot him a piercing glare. "You were supposed to escort Ginny."

"So? I have no intention of escorting a plebian like Weaselette anywhere."

"You don't have a choice. She's your soul-mate," the dark-haired teen reminded him.

Draco scowled. "I don't care."

"But I do!" Harry shouted, drawing more unnecessary attention from the other occupants of the room, but at this point it didn't matter. "She's like a sister to me, Malfoy, and I won't stand by and her be hurt by the likes of you. She deserves better than this. She may be a 'plebian' in your eyes, but in mine she is fit for royalty. She should be lavished with affection like a princess, not tossed aside like trash. She may be 'beneath' you in financial standing, but she is far above you pureblood elitists in everything else."

"Harry, that's enough, it's alright," Ginny said, having arrived shortly into his confrontation with the blonde. "I don't expect anything from _him_, especially not something akin to civility. You should be enjoying your evening with your soul-mate, not initiating a futile battle against mine." Harry looked at her with miserable green eyes filled to the brim with angry tears. "It's okay, Harry. Not everyone can be as fortunate in matrimony as you."

"You deserve better," he said.

"It doesn't matter anymore. This… this is how it was meant to be," Ginny said in a soft, resolute voice. She smiled weakly at the boy she loved even as tears filled her own eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Harry whispered and took his leave without another word. He sat next to Fawkes, who was trilling mutedly and eyeing him with concern.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, Fawkes. I'll be fine," Harry said, although his words lacked conviction. The dam finally broke and the tears fell. "I'm Harry Potter. I'm always fine. I have to be."

"Harry, let's leave. Come along, beloved." Harry's eyes immediately met Fawkes' gaze.

"What did you call me?"

Fawkes frowned in confusion. "Harry."

"No, after that."

"Beloved?"

Harry nodded. "Do you mean that? You really love me?" He couldn't keep the hope from his tone.

"Of course I love you, Harry. I always have."

"I thought it was just lust," the teen replied suspiciously.

"Maybe a little at first," Fawkes admitted. "But when you kissed me that night when I first took you flying, my feelings changed. Or rather, I realized them for what they were."

"I-I don't know if I…" Harry trailed off. "I can't say I love you. I don't know if it's true." Fawkes' heart dropped but he kept his expression as neutral as possible. Harry noticed anyways. "But maybe, maybe I could know for certain if you kissed me again," he added, turning crimson and looking away.

Fawkes' eyes glowed like molten rock. "Harry," he murmured tenderly, reaching up and grasping Harry's face with both hands, gently coercing the young wizard to meet his gaze. He leaned in and closed the gap between them with a warm kiss that conveyed his feelings for the boy. It was a simple kiss, lips upon lips, a tender touch, but it sent Fawkes' mind, heart, and senses reeling.

He was suddenly aware of the many pairs of eyes on them. He wondered if Harry noticed. He pulled away slowly and observed the effects his kiss had on his soul-mate. The teen's face was flushed, his eyes were glazed over, and he panted slightly to catch his breath.

"Well?"

"I don't know yet. I think I need another kiss," Harry panted before pulling a more than willing Fawkes down to meeting him in a smoldering kiss. It was much more intense and passionate than the previous, and it quickly became a heated battle of tongues. Fawkes quickly dominated and took control of Harry's mouth, hungrily exploring the warm, moist crevice. Harry moaned when Fawkes wrapped his arms tighter around his waist and pulled him closer so that they were flush against each other. Harry slipped his hands under Fawkes vest-like top and ran his hands along the phoenix's smooth, firm chest.

An embarrassed cough brought them crashing back to reality at break-neck speed. They pulled apart to glower at the intruder. Ron shifted uneasily. "Um, do you think maybe you can do that later? As in, when we're not around," he requested. Several others nodded in agreement but a large number would gladly have kept watching the couple.

"Ah, sorry 'bout that, Ron. Got a bit carried away," Harry muttered, nestling further into Fawkes' chest.

"A bit?" Hermione teased.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Would have gone a lot further if you didn't interrupt," he grumbled. His friends turned beet red at that declaration. He sighed. "But, I suppose it's better to wait until after the Ball. Speaking of which, I wonder when this whole ordeal will formally begin."

As if on queue, Dumbledore rose from his place at the Head Table and called for silence in the Great Hall, which was now an elegantly decorated ballroom. "Welcome, students and faculty alike. It is my pleasure to announce the commencement of the eight hundred and fifty first Soul-Bound Ball, which shall take place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"Refreshments are available along the east wall, compliments of the Hufflepuff seventh years, so feel free to take advantage of that. And now, without further ado, let the dancing begin." With a wave of the headmaster's hand, music began playing and nervous couples filled the dance floor.

Fawkes glanced at Harry and saw the discomfort in his green eyes. "Would you care to dance, Harry?"

Harry tensed further and shook his head vigorously. "No thanks," he piped hurriedly.

Fawkes frowned slightly. "Do you know how to dance?"

Harry glared at him. "Of course I know how! I'm not stupid!" he snapped.

Fawkes blinked in surprise and replied, "I did not say nor intend to imply that you were, Harry. I am merely curious as to why you are so seemingly averse to dancing."

"I just don't like it. Brings back bad memories; Yule Ball and all, it wasn't an enjoyable experience."

Fawkes smirked mischievously and leaned over so that his lips were next to Harry's ear, brushing against it as he spoke. "I promise to make it _enjoyable_ for you, Harry." He nipped Harry's earlobe teasingly before pulling back to gauge the wizard's reaction. What he saw caused him to smirk. Harry now seemed quite eager to dance. He rose gracefully and looked down at Harry with his arm outstretched.

"Might I request the honor of the next two dances, Mr Potter?" Harry placed his shaky hand into Fawkes' and let the phoenix lead him onto the dance floor. Fawkes held Harry securely in his strong arms and whirled him around the floor with grace and expertise and poise that no human being could possibly possess.

Much to Harry's surprise and disappointment, Fawkes kept a respectable distance between them. Then, as if sensing Harry's discontent, Fawkes pulled Harry closer, effectively removing any traces of genteel formality that had remained in tact until that moment. Harry stifled a moan when he felt how aroused Fawkes was. How could he remain so calm and collected while in such a condition? Harry could barely keep his knees from buckling at the feel of Fawkes' desire for him.

"You're trilling," Fawkes said barely above a whisper.

Harry's cheeks turned pink. "Oh. Sorry."

"No, I'm glad. I enjoy hearing your thoughts," the phoenix replied with a cheerful smile that masked the lustful haze in his eyes.

The first dance ended too quickly and the second commenced after too long a wait. Harry never left Fawkes' embrace and clung to the phoenix like he was his lifeline. Fawkes, for his part, was at the end of his rope. His hands were trembling with suppressed desire for his mate, and he was sure Harry felt every tremor. The boy was practically a pile of goo in his arms. Harry subtly rubbed against his manhood. "Harry, oh gods," he gasped in Harry's ear, evoking a moan from the young wizard.

"Fawkes, I'm tired," Harry whispered huskily. "Let's go to bed."


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: M

Chapter Rating: (M+)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Rated for language, violence and **adult (sexual) content** between two **male **characters. Seriously, this chapter actually does have some more graphic homosexual content. You have been warned.

* * *

"Fawkes, I'm tired," Harry whispered huskily. "Let's go to bed." 

He repeated his previous action, eliciting a moan from each of them.

Fawkes all but dragged Harry out of the grand room and down the hallway to a secluded room Harry hadn't known existed. Once he reached the bed, he threw the boy down roughly and captured his lips in a blazing kiss. He ran shaking hands down Harry's body and rubbed their erections together.

Fawkes fumbled with Harry's top for a moment before finally managing to peel it off. He trailed wet, open mouth kisses down the teen's neck and chest, tasting, licking, nipping, sucking, and savoring every inch of him. Harry arched his back and leaned into the touch, offering himself as a sacrifice to the god that was currently making love to him.

Fawkes slipped deftly out of his own clothing and returned his attention to Harry's writhing form beneath him. He fingered the waistband of the wizard's pants. He pulled them down at an agonizing pace and paused in reverence when he caught sight of Harry's arousal. Once all articles of clothing were completely removed, Fawkes moved so that his face was level with Harry's manhood. He panted heavily, allowing his short ragged breaths to flow over the aching appendage.

"Ah, Fawkes!" Harry cried, lifting his hips in a wordless plea. Fawkes met Harry's lust-filled eyes with his own and slowly took him into his mouth, placing his hands on the teen's hips to keep him from bucking up instinctively. He let his tongue run along Harry's erection and sucked teasingly before swallowing him. Harry let out a trill-overlapped scream as he came, and it sounded nothing short of heavenly to Fawkes' ears.

Fawkes eagerly accepted Harry's sacrificial offering, gulping it all down greedily and licking the young wizard dry when he was finished. He then moved up and kissed Harry hard on the mouth, entwining their tongues in a sensuous, erotic dance that made the spent teen's insides reel with renewed excitement.

"Fawkes, I want you inside of me," Harry moaned.

"I'll hurt you," the phoenix replied.

"I don't care." Sighing in resignation, Fawkes stroked Harry's hypersensitive manhood several times before spreading the boy's legs and positioning his own neglected erection against the dark-haired teen's entrance. He didn't have any lubrication and had not prepared the teen properly, and he was worried about hurting Harry, but the young wizard seemed so intent on coupling this way he didn't feel he could refuse. Not that he wanted to. He didn't want to wait another minute.

He covered Harry's lips with his and slowly eased his way into the boy, who was now writhing in pain. Once inside, he stilled and waited for Harry to readjust to his size. He kissed away the unshed tears in Harry's eyes and murmured a soft apology for hurting him, all the while trilling comfortingly to his mate.

When Harry's muscles relaxed slightly, Fawkes took it as a sign to continue. He pulled out and then thrust back in at just the right angle to his Harry's prostate. He repeated the process with increasing confidence and passion. The boy's cries were like the songs of the angelic hosts. Fawkes was certain he had never heard anything so overwhelmingly beautiful in his life.

Harry felt like he was soaring far above the plains of reality and fantasy alike. It was just like the time Fawkes had taken him flying, only better. Much better. This wasn't just freedom. This was passion, perfection, liberation, _completion_. This was union.

Harry climaxed with his soul-mate's name on his lips. Fawkes followed close behind, the sound of Harry's voice moaning his name in such a state of ecstasy pushing him over the edge. He thrust deep into his lover and released his essence. They lay entangled together for a moment, returning to earth little by little with each gasping breath, until Fawkes pulled out of Harry with a satisfied moan and collapsed beside him on the large bed. He pulled Harry to him and the young man snuggled into his chest, drifting off to sleep almost immediately.

Fawkes stayed awake long into the night just staring at the human who had captured his heart. It was said that the heart of a phoenix was untamable because it was born anew, wild and unchained, with every burning. Yet a twelve-year-old child had managed to capture it, only to release it four years later as a man.

It was also said that if you love someone, you let them go, and if they come back it was meant to be. Harry had willingly let him go. In the end, Fawkes had willing returned to Harry, and this night would forever stand as proof of that. He had chosen to return to the only one who had ever managed to enslave his untamed spirit, and by doing so he'd found the ultimate freedom, and that freedom was in Harry.

"I love you, Harry," Fawkes whispered to the sleeping boy.

Harry smiled in his sleep. "I love you, too."

Love had set them free. Both of them.


	8. Epilogue

Disclaimer: _Harry Potter _belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit is being made on this piece of fanfiction, and no infringement on any copyright laws was intended in its publication. Thank you.

Summary: Dumbledore is at it again. He has found yet another way to cause chaos and mischief within the Hogwarts walls. This time, it involves an ancient mirror, soul mates, ballroom dancing, and Fawkes in human form. Can Harry survive the ordeal without forfeiting his identity to another? Can he defy the laws of nature and souls? Does he even want to?

Story Rating: (M)

Chapter Rating: (PG)

Pairing: Fawkes/Harry

Warnings/Notes: Slash, language, AU, etc.

* * *

_Dear Diary,_

_I know I have sorely neglected you these past few weeks. I have been busy contemplating the deeper meaning of my existence. Just kidding, it's been exam week and everything's been hectic because of the impending doom of graduation. Fawkes has been little help. On several occasions, he has pulled me away from my studies and ravished me senseless, and I am convinced it was done just to hinder my progress._

_Today, however, there are no more exams. Today I leave behind Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Head Boy with several high honors, the names of which I cannot recall for lack of caring. A small part of me is scared of what the future will hold. Voldemort is still at large, after all. Yet another part of me is… excited. It will be the start of a new chapter in my life. A chapter that I intend to fill with pages of happy memories with Fawkes. He's kept me sane these past two years. If not for him, I think I would have thrown in the towel before seventh year even started. _

_I visited Ginny in St. Mungo's yesterday. She's gotten quite a bit better, I think, since Draco went to visit her. I don't know what was said during their brief exchange, but it has done her a world of good. She managed a smile, the first in a year and a half. I truly hope those two can reconcile their differences. It's not fair that I am so blissfully happy while they are tormented by both each other's presence and absence. I don't particularly like Draco Malfoy, but I would much rather he and Ginny marry than for both to suffer on the edges of insanity. _

_I hear that Ron and Hermione are getting married the muggle way to solidify their bond. I haven't spoken with them much since the Ball. It's strange, but we never even had a falling out. We just went our separate ways, I guess. My greatest fear going through school was facing their rejection; I thought that if anything were going to break us up, it would be our poorly matched tempers. I never thought it would simply fade away like it did. We're still friends, I think, not 'best friends' but still friends. I hope at the very least we are still friends._

_Remus is away on a mission for the Order. Tensions between wizards and dark creatures have increased drastically over the years, and Dumbledore has been pressuring Remus into gaining allies amongst the werewolf clans. He never refuses the Headmaster's wishes. He always obeys his orders and goes to the high-risk villages in search of allies. My heart stops every time I hear about a ministry raid of some helpless werewolf settlement. I am so scared that someday I will see his name on the casualty list. But he is set in his ways. He won't listen to me anymore. Not that he ever did. Sirius was the one who listened, and look where it got him. Dead. Perhaps Remus is the wiser one._

_As for me, what is there to say? I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. I will always have a battle to fight. At least I won't have to fight alone. ­_

–_HJP_

Beneath the entry was a still photograph of two phoenixes perched side by side on a tree branch. One was sleeping soundly, leaning against the other. And the other was staring at the camera with vivid green eyes.


End file.
